slid out of her chair, joining him on the floor. She took his hands in hers, leaning forward, touching her lips slightly to his. “But if you didn’t?” she asked, her mouth brushing his as she spoke the words.
He reached around behind her head, sifting his fingers through her hair and drawing her head back slightly, his dark eyes intent on hers. “If I did not, Gabby,” he said, his special nickname for her sending shivers along her spine. “If I didn’t, then I would lean in and I would kiss you, more deeply than you kissed me just now.”
“What else?” she asked, knowing she would burn for this. Past the point of caring.
“I would run my tongue along the line of your top lip before delving inside. I would taste you. So deep and long neither of us would be able to breathe. We wouldn’t want to breathe.”
She was shaking now, trembling with need. “Alex,” she whispered.
“I would pull your T-shirt up over your head, so that I could see you,” he said, resting his palm on her stomach, his touch scorching the material of her shirt. “So that I could feel how soft your skin is.” He left his hand there, his other still buried deep in her hair. “Then I would remove your bra. Get a good look at those beautiful breasts. They are beautiful. You are beautiful. I have said it many times to you now, but I need you to understand how true it is. It is the deepest truth I know, Gabriella. Your beauty. As real as the night sky.”
Tears filled her eyes and she made no move to wipe them away.
“I would trace your breasts with my tongue,” he continued, “before moving down to kiss your stomach. Then I would strip off your pants, your underwear. For a moment I would just...look at you. I would be afraid to blink for fear that I would miss a moment of that beauty. I would taste you, tease you, touch you, until you were sobbing in my arms.”
Gabriella closed her eyes, going still beneath his touch, focusing all of her attention on the pressure of his hand against her stomach, on the erotic words that were flowing from his mouth and over her like heated oil. “What then?” she asked.
“Oh, my darling, I would send you to the moon and back. I would make you scream with pleasure. Then, and only then, I would enter your body, slowly. I would be as careful with you as possible. But I fear it would not be as careful as I ought to be. Because by then...then I would be desperate for you. Beyond thought. It is important that I make you scream before that, because I will not last long once I’m buried deep within you.”
She let her lips fall open, her head drawn backward. “Yes,” she said, the word a sigh.
“It would be heaven,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “To feel you all around me. You would be so tight, so hot and wet. For me. Only for me, Gabby. It would only be for me.”
“Of course,” she said. “It would only ever be for you, Alex.”
She found herself swaying forward, her heart beating so quickly she thought she might faint.
Suddenly, Alex released his hold on her, standing up and putting as much distance between them as possible in one fluid movement. He was breathing hard, and she could see the press of his arousal against the front of his slacks. Could see that what he said was true. That he wanted her with a ferocity that he could not deny. That he would in fact love nothing more than to do everything he had just said.
And she wanted it. So badly that it echoed inside of her. An empty, aching need that only he could ever fill.
“We cannot, Gabby,” he said.
“Why?” she asked, the word torture.
“Because I have committed so many grave sins already. I have hurt so many people. Gabriella, I will do nothing but hurt you. And it is the last thing on earth I want to do.”
That was why she let him go. That was why she didn’t press. Because of the desperation in his voice. Because of how much he wanted to turn away from this. Because of how difficult it was for him. She would not add to his torture. Not after what she knew about him. Not after what he had told her about his parents, about his brother.
So she did nothing but nod slowly. Did nothing but watch him turn and walk out of the room all the while she sat there, shaking.
She felt cold suddenly. Where before she had only been hot.
She thought back to an earlier conversation they’d had as she sat there on the floor of her library, shivering. She had told him that one was much less likely to get scarred if they stayed in here. She almost laughed. Because she would never forget this. His words, his touch, was branded into her, a scar that would never heal. One that she had acquired—of all places—on the library floor.
It had been her place. The place she had always felt safe. Her refuge.
But it was his now. Irrevocably.
She was afraid it was the same for her.
GABRIELLA AVOIDED HIM for the entire plane ride. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t know what he had been thinking. Confessing those things to her. Saying those words to a virgin.
To a woman that he could never touch. Not any more than he already had.
So, he had allowed her to avoid him. On the plane, then again in the car as she had stared out the window, gazing at the unfamiliar city skyline. And he had watched her reflection in the window, uncaring about the buildings that had become so familiar and mundane to him. New York City failed to enthrall him. What fascinated him was seeing them through her eyes. Wide and glistening as she took in everything around her, her mouth open slightly. Her lips looked so soft. He would give a good portion of his fortune to kiss them again.
He continued to think about her lips as they arrived at his penthouse in Manhattan. Normally, after this much time away from work he would go directly into his home office and set about catching up. But tonight... Tonight it simply didn’t appeal.
The first thing he did when they arrived was set the painting up in the living room, taking a step back and looking at it for the first time since they had taken it from Isolo D’Oro.
“It’s beautiful,” Gabriella said, looking around the space, then at the painting. “All of this. I can’t quite believe that I’m here.”
“Yes,” he said in agreement. But he didn’t mean the view or his penthouse were beautiful. He meant her. Always her.
So then he looked at the painting to avoid looking at her. Close study of Gabriella’s features could only lead to ruin. He had been so taken with the woman in the painting upon first viewing that he hadn’t noticed much of the surrounding objects. For the first time he noticed that everything on the table of the vanity was painted in loving detail. That it was all very purposeful. The woman was wearing a necklace, the reflection of which could barely be seen in the mirror. Emeralds, and white diamonds. On her finger, almost entirely concealed by the tumbling locks of her dark hair, he could just make out the hint of a ring. There was a box, ornate and beautiful, certain to contain more jewelry. A tiara, set next to a beautiful bracelet. His breath caught, and he took a step closer. There was a book set on the vanity, as well.
That meant...
He
